


Out of Hand

by Hiniwalay



Series: For the liveliness of your mind, I did [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Are the Shades of Pemberley to be Thus Polluted?, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Intolerable!, Regency, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiniwalay/pseuds/Hiniwalay
Summary: Darcy encounters competition from unexpected quarters.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Series: For the liveliness of your mind, I did [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083602
Kudos: 72





	Out of Hand

"Boy," intoned the Master of Pemberley testily. "What have you to say for yourself?"

The lanky teen in dusty, horse-smelling clothing grumbled, "Nuthin'."

"I beg your pardon," he replied, in a voice that wasn't begging at all.

Louder, his stablehand said, "I did nuthin' the miss didn' wan' me to." Lanky, freckled, and fifteen, Johnny the lad never had a propensity for getting on Darcy's nerves. Till now.

"That's _missus_ to you, boy." The tension in his breast refused to ease. "Mrs. _Darcy_. Who, might I remind you, is my _wife._ "

Skinny, overlong arms crossed and a tousled head turned away, with a lip jutting in a petulant pout. It irked Darcy immensely to recall that an hour before, that lip had tried to do more than pout. That irritation could only be aggravated by the boy's answering words. "You're too old for 'er."

Mr. Darcy's voice rose incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"You 'eard me. How old 'r ya? Forty? She better off with a young 'un, like me. I betcha _I_ can provide for 'er as good— no, _better_ — only that ya were lucky enough to be born with Pemberley. I bet ya don' even know how ta saddle yer own horse!"

"Have you always been this garrulous?"

"Hmph! Ya mean to intimidate me with yo' fancy words. I'll have ya know a' know what tha' means! Talks a lot, tha's what. The miss herself tol' me."

 _Dearest Elizabeth._ Darcy closed his eyes. _You know I adore your lively talents, but this..._

"Hey!" came an indignant cry. "Ya hear me? She likes me! She flirts w' me! Husband? Psh! You're but a boring ol' man! A wish-wash!"

Darcy pressed his forehead to his fist and took a deep, stabilizing breath.

"Johnny..."

Darcy looked up sharply. Johnny jumped from his seat. There Elizabeth was in the doorframe, beautifully dressed and peering in with a half-exasperated, half-apologetic expression.

"Miss Lizzy!" He darted over to Elizabeth before Darcy could catch him— he was not _old,_ simply taken by surprise— so he settled for hovering dangerously over the boy's shoulder. "See, Miss Lizzy," the boy jabbered away. "'M talkin', practicin', like you told me to! C'mon, Miss Lizzy, ain’t I a better convasationalist than this old guy? See? He can't say anythin'! Not ta me!" Hands lifted in supplication. "C'mon, Miss Lizzy, I saved all ma wage money. Ya can run away w' me! We can go t' Gretna Green!"

All the apologies on Elizabeth's face only barely contained Darcy. He was _not_ contained when the boy grabbed her bare hand and kissed it.

Two days later, Elizabeth was sending the boy a slab of chilled meat with a letter to firmly disabuse the poor stablehand of his lover's notions. It was marginally easier than persuading (guilt-tripping) her husband not to have that particular helping hand sacked.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Johnny.
> 
> Guessing my way through Regency culture. Let me know if there's anything I ought to work on! Or simply what you think. I'm happy to hear from you all.


End file.
